Crimson Midnight
by LovelyPriestess
Summary: As the sky is painted with crimson and the darkness cloaked over the moon, all we can do is sob and scream. Final Eclipse Spoilers.
1. The Death

**Crimson Midnight **

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Disclaimer: _I don't own Daughters of the Moon_. These are just random scenes that are based off ideas I had that might have occurred during and after the Atrox's defeat; of course, some are made up and some are scenes that replace previous ones. Have fun.

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**I. Serena always did **_**have **_**his heart**

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Vanessa gazed at Stanton, unconvinced by his halfhearted lie about his inability to love. An ominous cloak of darkness wrapped around her body, consuming her thinking process momentarily—it was an emotion of a dangerous premonition, as if something terrible was stirring from Adamantis's seething words. She glimpsed at Stanton, wondering if his sharp senses had caught onto the threat trailing on the wind, but he remained stoic, jaw locked, as he listened tensely to Adamantis's speech. Vanessa, too, listened intently, awaiting the outcome.

"_Catty believed she was deceiving me,_" Adamantis went on "_I let her think she had, of course, because that gave me time to wander about her mind and visit all her memories. You can't imagine my surprise when I discovered memories of you with Serena._"He studied Stanton "_The Prince of the Night still feels love. After I realized this was true, I went along with you deception as well, because I knew I could use your secret to my advantages one day._"

"_Like now._"

"_Precisely,_"Adamantis replied_. "This love of yours makes you risk your own existence time and again in order to ensure Serena's safety._"

Stanton's knuckles were bone white as he clenched his fists, his fingers curling into his palm. Vanessa shifted her feet, not understanding the exact notion behind his speech about Stanton's love for Serena, but the threat was very much evident. Stanton could attack, but his stature remained rigid, azure eyes hardened into cold stone. Neither she nor Stanton could comprehend what Adamantis was building with his menacing yet flat talk.

"What are you—?" Vanessa began, but Adamantis continued, not tearing his malicious stare away from Stanton.

"She shares your heart." Adamantis's lips curled into a smirk as he corrected, "No, she _has _your heart. All of it, I suppose. It's a pathetic and delicate aspect of her—and you, seeing as you have _her _heart—that gives you the vulnerability you have at the moment. I've never understand how mortals could easily submit to a diminishing state of mentality simply because their _beloved_"—he rolled his eyes and sneered—"died. How pitifully weak-minded and weak-willed humans can be."

Vanessa rubbed her arms anxiously.

"Your words are no threat," Stanton finally spoke, strong voice firm; however, a tremor of fear seemingly crossed his eyes. She chewed on her bottom lip, and glanced at Serena's expressionless stare; eyes glazed over with a trance-like coloring that turned her emerald eyes into a clouded, dull green. "You can't do me any harm," Stanton added tightly.

"Stanton," Adamantis chuckled darkly, shaking his head as if speaking to a naïve child, "I don't need to _touch_ you to _harm_ you."

Stanton now appeared extremely confused, but a dark, horrified emotion locked onto his face, and before Vanessa could react—before she could choke out a scream or charge forward—, Adamantis had jerked his arm to his side, where Serena still sat, and Vanessa could only see the dangerous gleam of a dagger's edge thrust forward. Vanessa's swallowed the heaviness in her throat and her knees began to shake violently when Serena gasped, awoken from her trance, and stared, stunned, at her chest.

Adamantis tilted his head and stepped away slightly. "You have his heart," he explained thinly, repeating his previous words, "I think it's time I destroy it."

Vanessa, falling onto her knees, crawled desperately toward Serena—Adamantis shifted away from her, grasping his robe and moving it away to allow her to move toward her friend—as she fell to the ground, her grim fingers clutching the end of the dagger… now lodged into her heart. Her eyes were terrifyingly distressed. Before she could tear out the dagger, Vanessa clasped her hand, stopping her. Serena gazed up at her with shocked eyes; her eyebrows furrowed in sheer pain. It was a reaction, but Vanessa was quick to think, despite being pained by the situation.

"N-No," Vanessa warned, numbed from the brutality at what had occurred. "It will only begin to… bleed more." Heaviness draped over her eyes, tempting the tears to fall. "I d-don't want you to bleed to…" _Death_, she finished solemnly in her head. Stroking Serena's soft curls and scanning for something—a cloth, maybe—to press against the wound, Vanessa managed to lock eyes with Adamantis. He gazed down at her for several minutes, darkly amused by the horror on her face, before his eyes traveled across the room.

"_Bastard!_" Vanessa cried. He paid no notice, and she followed his gaze. She could feel the numbness now invade her chest, spreading. Everything about her felt hollow, and nausea consumed her stomach. She wanted to hack and cough. Stanton stood were he was before, but his once devoid expression was now replaced with unbearable pain; eyebrows pinched together, mouth slightly open. His arms visibly quivered, his flesh ghostly pale. Vanessa could almost decide that he was on the verge of collapsing.

"This seemed the only way of destroying you," Adamantis explained malevolently.

Vanessa stared back down at Serena, unable to bear Stanton's pain. "Serena," she whispered, but now, dread engulfed her at the sight of Serena's mouth—Serena, who was clutched in her arms. A thick ribbon of crimson blood streamed down her jaw, dividing at the end of her chin—one drop remaining on her collarbone while the other still slid down her chest.

"V-Vanessa," Serena whispered, voice raspy and broken.

She leaned forward, straining to hear. "What?" Her bottom lip quivered as she chocked out a sob, several tears now slipping down her cheeks. "Please don't leave me," she croaked, body undeniably numb. "Not you, too."

"Sorry," Serena managed to say, a cracked, withered smile on her face. Before Vanessa could say more, she was roughly shoved out of the way, and Stanton had tenderly wound his arms around Serena's back, holding her up. His hands trembled as he swept his fingers across her cheek. Blood smeared onto his fingertips, and he gazed at it for several prolonged moments, seemingly not comprehending. Serena closed her eyes tightly, and Vanessa could tell how much pain was trained onto her expression.

Adamantis sighed, exasperated. "I didn't expect her to cling to life for such a long time."

"Serena," Stanton murmured, "_Please…_"

Adamantis scoffed and opened his mouth to speak again, but a spear of vicious energy barreled into his chest, causing him to stagger back. Vanessa stared at the fury on Stanton's face, which, when he gazed back down at Serena, turned into the same layer of terror and grief. His once blue orbs were a perpetual black, and she could have been easily lost in the depth of sorrow in them. Her heart beat wildly.

"It's as if I've derived a scene from some wretched romantic tragedy scene," Adamantis sputtered, as he leaned against the wall, still affected by the energy, "I didn't expect so much sadness." A mock smile played across his face.

Stanton ignored him. "You can't," he murmured, staring at Serena.

"Stanton," Vanessa whispered, reaching forward, "I need something to cover the wound." It was the only offering of hope she could give him, for he couldn't seem to concentrate. But she couldn't voice her thoughts. She couldn't handle telling him that Serena would be dead in seconds, the blood pooling from her mouth hinting to internal bleeding… her heart was stopping. As a human, Serena wouldn't be able to live.

He snapped his head up, outrage in his eyes. "Don't think that," he sneered, eyes narrowed. "Don't—"

She covered her mouth, chocking back another sob, when she noticed Serena's—who had slowly closed her eyes seconds ago—chest stop rising; her body still. Stanton, perplexed by her horrified expression, began to understand. Staring down, he slowly gazed back at Serena. His arms shook uncontrollably and his fingers trailed under her eyes.

"She's dead," Vanessa whispered, eyes widened, "She—"

"She can't be!" Stanton shouted, whipping his head around to glare venomously at her, before turning back to Serena. After she remained lifeless still, the comprehension of what had happened steadily eased onto his face. Jaw clenched, Stanton didn't kneel anymore. No, instead, his knees buckled and he pressed Serena against his chest and buried his face into the curve of her neck. Vanessa rested a hand on his shoulder, and she couldn't tell if he was whimpering, crying, or just about ready to scream.

"Have I destroyed you now?"

Vanessa gazed across the room, where Adamantis was situated, apparently awaiting an answer. Something akin to a heartbroken, torn scream tore from Stanton's throat, causing Vanessa to cry out a sob in reaction. After that, silence reigned, with Stanton still holding dearly onto Serena, and Vanessa watching the scene, mouth open in disbelief at the notion of Serena dead… and Catty.

Serena and Catty.

Catty and Serena.

"I take that as a yes."

Adamantis chuckled.

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**Next Up: **_Catty could have sworn the portal was still open._

… Adamantis's name is a bitch to write over and over again :P


	2. The Cliff

**Crimson Midnight **

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**II. Catty could have sworn the portal was still open**

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Vanessa, breathless, faced the dark, shady faces of the Regulators, unable to truly realize the full reality of what had occurred. Serena had been swept away by the shadows, her shocked form being engulfed into the night. The thick stench of rotting vegetation and murky forest puddles and shrubbery filled her head, making it all the while harder to actually concentrate. Catty, beautiful face framed by tendrils of soft, brown hair, stepped forward, her long, black robe sweeping across the forest floor; the color mixed with the darkness of the forest. Pine needles snapped against her hair. A frown was on her face.

"Vanessa is _mine_," Catty sneered fervently. The Regulators shifted out of her way, all feeling the passionate hurricane within her. Vanessa tried ignoring the malicious betrayal seeping into her mind; the way Catty gazed murderously at her, the hunger present—hunger for the Daughter's demise. It horrified Vanessa, but further fueled the need to punish Catty for her treacherous deception. The evil suppressed inside of Vanessa began to dwindle on the surface of her control, as Catty's possessive words brought fury into her energy.

Catty halted in her steps, a bemused and humored expression on her face. "Are you building you energy?" She threw her head back and laughed cruelly, the others—including Adamantis—joining in, the wickedness of the sound melding together. Vanessa gazed at her, a caustic flare of hatred swimming in her head. Suddenly, she could feel someone fishing through her mind, and by the dazed expression on Catty's face, Vanessa knew it was her—seemingly new—telepathic powers.

"You can read minds?" Vanessa questioned scathingly. "Did you acquire it from your betrayal, _Catty_?"

Something dangerous flashed across Catty's eyes. "I have many powers, _Vanessa_," she retorted, "All of which can easily overcome you—"

"_SHUT UP!_" Her screamed pierced the air. Catty snapped her mouth shut, disbelief locked onto her dark eyes. "I hate you!" she continued relentlessly, "I hate you for what you've become, and I hope you die!"

"You don't think that," Catty whispered lowly, "Of course not…" Her voice trailed on the still air, but then, alarm rang in her eyes. Narrowing them, she stepped dangerously close to Vanessa, her jaw locked. "_Killing a Goddess solidifies my power. And the fall off the cliff is definitely going to kill you._" Stretching out her arms, she rammed her palms into Vanessa's shoulder. Vanessa gasped as she plummeted into the dark abyss.

Catty, seeing her friend disappear, quickly wiped the grin off her face as she turned to face the others. Vanessa would have surely escaped. The Regulators probably thought she nearly fell to her death. After all, the star was still bright, the portal still—

"Oh, God," Catty gasped, choking.

The sky was blank—the same perpetual ebony, crimson tint. The demon star no longer warned of the portal's opening.

She had murdered her best friend.

Adamantis smiled knowingly; mysteriously.

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**Next Up: **_Collin remembers a pair of emerald eyes_

—This came to me when Catty pushed Vanessa off the cliff: what if the portal wasn't open still; if Vanessa continued talking? Yikes. I'm sure Catty would have realized, but I needed it to be horrifying. (Insert evil laughter)


	3. The Memories

**Crimson Midnight **

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**III. Collin remembers a pair of emerald eyes**

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Collin's chest throbbed with an aching pain—wistful pain. Just seconds ago, he had placed the phone down, hearing the words that Jimena had solemnly spoken. Serena, his adoring sister, was captive. He remembered the hope that soared into his heart when he heard of Vanessa's escape—expecting Serena to be with her—, but Jimena had sadly informed him that Serena hadn't made it out.

_I can't do anything for her_, he thought angrily.

Useless, he could honestly say. This filthy dimension—this _Nefandus_, as Jimena had explained—caused a swarm of rage to consume his body, replacing the emptiness in his soul. Their father was already a shell of a man, constantly marching into their home, hopeful for Serena's return. And every time he entered, that same shimmer of faith in his expression diminished into nothing.

"I should have been more connected to her life," he often spoke to Collin, guilt crossing his features.

"It's not your fault."

Their father would never reply, but would merely excuse himself to his office, where Collin couldn't even guess as to what he was doing. And Collin would escape to Serena's bedroom, where'd he constantly reminisce, recalling her jovial laughter and bright emerald eyes that shined with unimaginable emotion everyday. He lost his mother. He couldn't lose his sister, the dearest family to his heart.

And now, as he sat on her bed, he stared up at the sky through the French doors. Darkness engulfed the moon, and he prayed Serena wasn't dead—was her death the cause of this odd eclipse? This rabid apocalypse? Was it truly the end of the world?

"Not yet."

Collin jumped, startled. Stanton appeared, a frown etched onto his face. Tendrils of shadowy tentacles whipped around him, still entwined with his body. A smile flashed across Collin's face as he stood, expecting another form—a flurry of curls, maybe—to appear beside him, but as the seconds ticked by, the shadows under Stanton dispersed. In turn, Stanton's eyes became troubled; conflicted with emotion.

"Where's Serena?" Collin asked, sadly.

"In Nefandus still," Stanton replied, the bitterness in his voice obvious.

"You have to save her!"

Stanton crossed his arms. "I will."

"Then what are you doing here?" Collin demanded, overcome with a passionate hatred and frustration triggered toward no one in particular. "Why aren't you _there_, saving her?" His body tensed. "You don't care do you? You were using her the entire time, weren't you?"

Malice consumed Stanton's calm expression. "I would never abandon her." The chaos returned to his eyes. "I love her."

"Why are you here?" Collin asked.

"To inform you that your sister will be safe. Don't worry."

Collin rubbed his temples and slumped back down. He stared up at Stanton, somewhat uncertain. "Are you sure about that?"

"Of course," Stanton responded. "Do you honestly believe I would allow anything to happen to her?"

"… I'm not sure."

Stanton scoffed. "You need to have hope for her life—she's a Daughter of the Moon. She lives off hope."

Collin smiled sadly. "Can you guarantee she'll be back?"

Hesitation played across his face, causing Collin to narrow his eyes. "What is it?"

"I can honestly say she'll be alive," Stanton said, emotionless, "but I didn't say she'd be back."

"Why—?" Collin stopped short, recalling Serena's third choice. The sorrow returned, but a part of him still felt the bliss. "She'll be alright," he whispered, "But she'll stay with you…" He gazed up at Stanton. "How sure are you she'll choose it?"

A small sense of dread crossed the Prince's eyes. "I'm not… I'm just hoping."

Collin, after gazing at his hands for several moments, finally smiled.

"I hope she does, too."

-

Their father is nothing but a withering man, unable to process lively. He goes to work, comes home, eats, and then disappears to his office. It's as though his body is functioning on automatic, but his mind no longer works properly; efficiently. Collin once again sits on the bed once belonging to his sister—it was two days ago that Stanton visited. His words are the only hope still left within Collin.

The door to Serena's bedroom opens, and Jimena enters.

"Serena?" Collin stands. "Is she—?"

"She's in Nefandus," Jimena intervenes, smiling assuring; sadly. "She sealed the portals to the world so the Followers there can't leave anymore—can't enter earth anymore." She sighed. "But because Stanton had to remain there, she—"

"Chose to stay with him," he finished, slumping onto the bed. "Forever…"

Jimena sat down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. He rubbed her arm, knowing how much she was affected, also. "I'm sorry," she murmured, pressing her lips to his cheek. "I'll miss her." Jimena is conflicted, as she restrains the urge to scream—to choke out pointless sobs. But no… she was Pandia, a guardian who needed strength—she concealed the tears by thinking of the happier side that was given to Serena: that side being able to spend an eternity of love with Stanton, and take control of her destiny over the balance of the dark and the light.

"It's for the best," Collin finally said, somewhat choking on his words.

"For her happiness," Jimena agreed. "She told me Stanton truly made her happy awhile back."

"… And Catty? Vanessa?" Collin whispered, actually feeling glad for his sister's happiness, but now concerned for the other Daughters.

Jimena shook her head. "… Catty is _dead_…" The word hung on the air, thick, and the deadness in her eyes snared with the small proportion of happiness. "Vanessa chose to lose her memories and start life over as a normal being." Jimena covered her mouth, concealing the sob that nearly broke through her strong barriers. "But it still feels as if I've lost everyone—as if I'm alone. My friends are gone. Vanessa doesn't even now."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "For everyone." He caressed her cheek lovingly; reassuringly. "I'm sorry for you, too."

"_Everyone_," Jimena repeated.

Collin could honestly remember watching the five Daughters—his sister, Jimena, Catty, Vanessa, and Tianna—together, never once faltering with their destinies or their current status as saviors. They were truly Goddesses, untouched by death or pain it seemed; even when Serena had broken up with Stanton, although tormented by the painful longing for her _love_. Not even when Tianna lost her family or Jimena, not as affected by the brutality in past life as a gangster. These five _weren't _mere mortals, he often thought. They were beautiful, emotionally and physically. Death could _never _catch them…

And yet, in these past months, he realized how actually mortal they are… they _were_.

The hollowness returned, and a lazy smile crossed his face as images of Serena and Jimena laughing loudly together, locked in an embrace of true friendship; or even Catty, teasing a pouting Vanessa; and Tianna, the newcomer who easily became one of them, joining in on the bliss that Collin believed would last forever.

This bliss did remain there for eternity, despite how far apart they were from earth—within Serena, who finally could be with her love peacefully; Tianna, away from the pain and in the arms of her savior, Selene; Catty, away from the evils of her destiny and at peace. Vanessa, although probably not able to be as completely whole with the loss of her friends, could start over—be away from the Atrox and live normally.

Jimena sighed. "We'll be okay," she assured, whispering.

"I know," Collin responding truthfully.

They had each other, after all.

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**Next up: **_Where do we go in life now? _

—I feel so sorry for Collin! It makes me cry. And Jimena, too! And Vanessa! And… everyone! But especially Collin and Jimena.


	4. The New Life

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Crimson Midnight ****

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**IV. **_Where do we go in life now?_

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Vanessa skimmed through the magazine, her blue orbs trained on the brilliant white gowns. Once in awhile, a certain dress would catch her eye, and she'd merely circle it with her black marker before continuing to leaf through the magazine. Legs crossed, she sighed happily and gazed upward. The clock on the wall was too slow! Or maybe it was her excited mood, steadily slowing down the time. Either way, she couldn't wait for Michael to be home.

Their wedding would be beautiful—her mother would be proud as she gazed at her daughter, adorning a radiant wedding dress, sauntering down the isle, a bouquet of fresh, beautiful flowers in hand. Everyone would be gawking at her. She frowned, however, as the idea of the bulge in her stomach probably making the dress size higher. But her daughter—as the previous doctor's visit had proven—would be very beautiful indeed.

What to name her?

"Catty," she whispered aloud, already feel the stream of sorrow pooling into her body. Catty was a great name. Lively. Animated. Attractive. Unique. Everything that someone named Catty would posses. Vanessa shook her head and smiled sadly, knowing how much her thoughts were morphing into another remising over her lost friend.

Sucking up a large amount of air, she didn't allow the ancient grief to bring down the happiness currently releasing a flood into her body. No, sadness was stress she didn't want her daughter to be born into. She and Michael possessed a healthy relationship consisting of nothing but affection and connection—the ability to speak about one another's problems, emotions, and decisions. Nothing could ruin the potential that their daughter would grow up to have; after all, in a stress-free, well-conversed environment, she—their daughter—wouldn't be even close to depression or emptiness or…

"Why am I striving for perfection?" Vanessa groaned, slumping against the sofa. It was as though she was rooting for only normalcy, and she wondered how she associated normalcy with Catty's disappearance. How was lack of normalcy the cause for Catty's death? Catty was perfectly normal, albeit the rebellious, strange streak—an average teenager. Nothing out-of-the-ordinary killed her (and Vanessa _knew _she was dead, for the hollow gape in her chest never flared with hope, a signal that her best friend—a girl she loved dearly—was no longer connected her heart).

The front door opened, and Michael entered, his warm smile washing away her sadness. That—Catty, her teenage life, Serena—was the past, this—her fiancé, her unborn daughter—was the present. Jumping up from the plump beige sofa, she leapt into his arms, a grin that reached ear-to-ear plastered onto her face. Golden tresses tumbled down her back. His arms were strong around slender waist.

"I missed you," he murmured lovingly into her ear.

Letting her on the floor, Michael unwound his arms and strode past her. Hanging the keys up and his coat, Vanessa continued staring adoringly after his retreating back; her feet shifting as she swooned. He was a perfect husband for her—a good-paying job, a kind, giving personality, and not to mention being the traits of being the best father in the entire universe.

"Wedding dresses?" Michael questioned, seeing the abandoned magazine. He perched himself down on the sofa and grinned soothingly at her. Nodding eagerly, she complied by sitting down beside him, her fingers lacing with his.

"I was thinking about the name for our daughter. Guess what I thought of—"

"Catty," he intervened, startling her a great deal.

"How'd you know?"

He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand; his dark eyes were alluring, momentarily stunning her. Even after several years together, his handsomeness—those glossy black locks and his surprising revelations—always shocked her.

"Because I know you," he replied softly, "and I know how much you miss her. You're clinging onto her so badly."

She looked down, unintentionally ashamed. "Does that bother you?"

"Of course not," Michael objected, seemingly shocked she would even ask such a question. "You think I should feel angry because you miss Catty? Vanessa, you loved her. She was one of the closest people to your heart." He peppered her lips with his, mumbling tenderly, "If _you _want to name our daughter after Catty, then… yes, that can be her name."

She recoiled, her eyebrows pinched together; eyes glassy. "How are you so selfless?"

"I do what I do," he answered teasingly.

Smiling, she slipped her arms around his waist and pushed his back against the sofa. Kissing him on the lips and neck, she rested her palms on his chest. Before their session could continue, the phone—on the coffee table beside her—rang shrilly. Moaning in agitation, Vanessa reached over (still on top of Michael—and pressed it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Is this Vanessa Cleveland?"

She sat up, already anxious by the commanding tone. "… Yes?"

"Your mother, Jane Marie Cleveland, was admitted into Cidars-Sinai Hospital just a few minutes ago. She suffered from a heart attack." A pause occurred—silence that she often saw in dramatic movies when… no, this was not one of those times.

"What…?"

"I'm sorry to inform you, but the heart attack was fatal. Your mother was pronounced dead in the hospital room. We'd like…" The rest of the words vanished as she phone slipped from her numb fingers, and Vanessa could feel her chest tear open. Breathing unevenly, nothing but a shout greeted her as she fell into a dark hole of nothingness.

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**XXX

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**"Why are they here again?" 

"Because…"

"Jimena!"

"It's my duty! I'm the—"

"Magna Cater! Their mentor, I know, but—!"

"_You know_, so this conversation is over."

"Jimena… _please_…"

"Why do you _hate_ them so much?"

"… They remind me of…"

"… Oh…"

The silence is the only thing pressing against her ear then, and Jimena can feel the guilt build in her chest. Collin rests his elbows on the table and presses his forehead against the wood. His breathing is shallow as he works to regain a sense of calmness within the storm raging in his body; his body riddled with depression. Jimena taps the surface of the table, lost in memories. In the living room of their house, four girls—each so happy and blissful—giggle jovially and gossip about the newest heartthrob. A sad smile plays across her face.

That was once them. That was _their _scene; their happiness; their… _naivety_ and _innocence_.

"I'm sorry," she finally whispers, turning to her husband. He only lifts his head and nods, the full understanding of _her _pain swimming through his head. They are both equally depressed by the loss of Serena—despite the fact that it had happened _five _years ago. In fact, day after day Jimena tries to convince herself that Serena is happy—probably Stanton's bride by now, and a Dark Goddess—, but nothing—not even temporary comforting thoughts—can diminish the empty part of her soul; the missing piece.

She'd give anything to have her best friend back—the one she never had a chance to say goodbye to—, just as Collin would give up anything to be in the presence of his sister. And she can see the grief on his face every time his eyes land on the four new Daughters—Daughters fighting the remaining Followers on earth and those who escaped Nefandus before it permanently sealed shut.

"I have to take care of them," Jimena attempts to explain. "I need to be their mentor."

"The world depends on it, I know," Collin responds acidly. Seeing the conflict piercing her gaze, Collin sighs and stares back at her, shamefaced. "I'm sorry, Jimena… But I _hate_ being reminded of Serena." He bites his bottom lip. "I miss her so much."

"I do, too," she croaks, clutching her head in agony. The Daughters in the other room--despite the distance—sense the turmoil, and their eyes slowly shift to their mentor. Pity engulfs each of them. They know the story—the story of each _past_ Daughter—and each feels the most remorse for Serena (for being forced away from earth) only because Jimena usually speaks most about her.

"She'd be happy for us," Jimena mutters, staring at him. "She wouldn't want us moping over her everyday." Standing up, the chair scraping back, Jimena shakes out her sorrows and turns her attention to the girls. "She'd want me to be the greatest leader… mentor… I could be."

"She'd be pretty disappointed that she managed to render the great Jimena Castillo powerless," Collin finally jokes, despite the coldness clinging to his body; everything—his soul—feels empty, but as his eyes lock with Jimena's… it alls vanishes for awhile, and he's left with pride for the woman he loves: the woman who became someone his sister would appreciate just as much as he did.

"Are you seriously considering flirting with that… _that_… Follower?!"

Both Jimena and Collin watch as one of the girls—Claire—scorns Sarah, who is blushing madly. Jimena and Collin share a sheepish look.

"He flirted with me first!" Sarah protests.

Jimena comes forth, arms crossed. "What's his name?"

"_Steven_," Claire hisses.

"Double S," Collin mumbles from the table, grief-stricken.

"Coincidence," Jimena whispers, but feels a smile on her face. Turning to Sarah, she says, "If you feel in your heart that it's the right choice—he's the right choice—, then don't let any of your friends hold you back, no matter how relentless they'll be"—_almost killing him, maybe_, she thinks; stifling laughter—"and I know it will work out. I have proof."

"Yeah," Sarah snaps proudly at Claire, "Serena's _affair _worked out."

Claire frowns. "And now she's trapped in some dimension!"

"_And_ happy," Jimena adds.

Claire shuts her mouth then, defeated.

"See," Sarah mutters, folding her arms across one another, "_Happy_."

"_Oh, God_," Jimena hears Collin mutter from the other room. She turns, seeing him begin to pound his head against the table; vicious emotions of sorrow twining with each other, an inner battle within his body. Jimena wants to apologize for tormenting him, but she can't help but smile, knowing, despite the depression she'll always have, that Serena is at peace.

No need to suffer forever.

Collin bangs his head again, and she realizes how much he'll never agree with her.

**

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**XXX**

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The clock strikes midnight, and of course, Stanton's—_pleaded_—promise to her remains fulfilled. The moon shines brightly in the sky, shining down upon Serena as she gazes out the window. Starts illuminate the night sky, painted with misty, dark clouds, and navy and black colors. A light breeze ruffles the crimson curtains and strokes her dark curls. In the mirror to her side, the reflection of her is different then what is was before she made her choice. The girl—the woman—is darkly beautiful: dark emerald eyes; dark tendrils of fine hair; a lustrous, yet dark figure. Her personality was that of dark and light balanced into one; a calm peacefulness; a warm, motherly nature; of course, the occasional sinister streak brought upon by being near so many Followers and Regulators still trapped in Nefandus.

_At least they've become less evil_, she thinks beamingly.

_Thanks to your strict rules_, another voice joins her. Smiling, she slowly eases around. Standing near the door, Stanton is situated, a warm glow emitting from him—the same one he most often possesses whenever in her presence. It makes her cocky knowing how _she _is the only one able to bring him that aura. His arms are folded across his chest as he saunters toward her; they unfold so to slip around her waist and hug her to him.

"They aren't_ that _strict," she protests innocently.

"I'm not sure they take kindly to be forced to use their powers _every_ second to disguise what they naturally _are_," Stanton jokes warmly. She smirks, already remembering the angered grimaces of the Regulators as they slither about, all appearing as handsome, average men. Nothing grotesque or slimy about them. No mossy skin or oozing flesh. She shivers at the memory.

"I'm a _queen_," she supplies earnestly, as if the word was the true answer, "I can do what I want."

"None of them enjoy the moon either," Stanton teases, gazing at the silver circle in the sky.

She stares down, unblinking. "I do."

"I know," Stanton whispers against her cheek, "and that's all that matters."

She plays with the gold ring on her finger, embedded with an ancient prayer meant to protect her. Maybe the last incident with owning a ring given by Stanton should make her nervous, but it's most often overridden with knowing how much she _is his _now. No more battles or other threats challenging their relationship. The Regulators—despite how much they despise Stanton and her—can do nothing. The portal will never open. Even if they were given a chance to overpower Stanton, what use what it do? There's nothing left for them. They're simply prisoners.

"Collin."

Stanton snaps away from her slightly, startled. "What?"

She whirls around, the edge of her skirt twirling, and cocks her head. "His name will be Collin." She indicates to the bump in her stomach. Of course, this is also the cause for her constant blissfulness. The Regulators often stare at it with disgust, most hating Stanton for actually impregnating her. They most certainly couldn't take another _one_ (as they usually spat) telling them what to do and how to do it.

"How sure are you that it will be a boy?"

After several seconds, she smiles mysteriously. "I don't. I just wish."

"After your brother then?" he asks, rubbing her arms soothing. She nods, biting back the tears swelling in her eyes. The simple mention of his name does put a hormonal strain on her body. But even when she wasn't pregnant, Stanton usually found her crying silently in their bed, plagued by thoughts of her brother and of Jimena and of her father. She practiced trying to find a way to telepathically contact them, despite being in different dimensions.

"I miss him so much," she whimpers.

"I know," Stanton whispers, embracing her. "I _can _read your mind."

"I know," she retorts, sending him a glare. Throwing her hands up, she storms out of the room, leaving him bemused. Hearing the slamming of a door, he sighs, dejected. Her unstable emotions were becoming stressful and… frightening. She had shoved him into a _wall _already. After several seconds, a woman sauntered in, her smirk knowing. It was one of the maids—servants really, seeing as their home (castle, mansion, whatever it was) was enormous. She was also the only one experienced with pregnancy… and the least likely to attempt to murder his unborn child merely out of spite.

"Don't worry," Katherine—her name is—assures, "It'll pass. She's seven months in."

"And about two months left," he mutters, rubbing his eyes. "She cries _a lot_."

"Way to be sensitive about it," Katherine mumbles disdainfully.

He stands straighter, eyes narrowed. "It's just stressful," he snaps.

"No need to be childish—"

A short scream shatters their snappish moment. Already, Stanton is skimming through the shadows, faster than light, and in the restroom where Serena is, hunching over on the floor. Her face is buried in her hands, and he can hear low whimpering and crying. Kneeling beside her, his hand winds around her waist. "Serena?" His voice is gentle and caring. "What's…?"

No other word comes out. A small pool of crimson liquid, the odor horrid, floods under her, staining her skirt. From behind, Katherine sighs, her thoughts ringing with horror and pity and a small sense of relief that should make him furious, but he's too busy feeling terrified for his love. The grief emanating from her body is violent and strong.

"Blood," Katherine amends. "She's had a miscarriage."

"Can't you—"

"I can't do anything," she responds dryly, "I'm sorry for that."

Stanton, cursing, attempts to hold Serena, but she doesn't budge. In fact, she removes her hands, revealing bloodshot eyes and a frightened expression. Her words root him to the spot. "I feel… empty."

He feels useless.


	5. The Love

**Crimson Midnight **

**

* * *

**

**V. **_I'll come back for you_

**-:-**

**-:-**

**-:-**

Serena struggled to move her feet as the two Regulators on either of her sides ruthlessly dragged her down the cold, dimly-lit hallway; candle flames flickering across the stone walls and warmth emitting pleasantly from them. Her entire body felt cold… Terror clawed savagely at her stomach, releasing a flood of sickness. Hot sweat beaded her forehead. Not even distracting herself with hopeful thoughts over Vanessa, who _might _have gotten away, seemed to dull the emptiness and sheer, undeniable fear controlling her movement. The stench of rotten forest clung to her body, far more foul than the two Regulators, oozing nothing more than grotesqueness and a putrid odor that was tangible on the thick air.

"Almost there, sweet Goddess," one of them purred into her ear, voice high and reedy. She shuddered, an unpleasant feeling twining through her dread. The Regulator snickered shrilly, pleased by her newly produced fear and helplessness. Reaching the end of the hallway, the other one shoved open double-doors, and inside the room, she was greeted with pitiless, malicious faces of several Inner Circle members; flames casting dangerous shadows across the frightening faces. But something—something horrible and utterly terrifying—caught her eye.

"No," she whimpered, helpless and tired. "I—"

"Time to enter your true destiny," Catty's father, Adamantis, rejoiced mockingly, indicating to the cold, blue flames flickering and lashing out violently from where it was… _The frigidus ignis_. The pure sweetness and temptation emanated from it, swallowing her body. She shook her head, shoving away from the vicious thoughts that snared her mind, filling it with faux luxuries and such.

"I will not enter," she whispered through gritted teeth, eyes narrowed.

"It's not a choice for you to make," Adamantis replied tauntingly, smirking venomously at her; yellow eyes brightening in excitement. The Regulators, fingers digging into her flesh, clamped down harder onto her upper arms. She struggled fruitlessly, kicking her feet forward and squirming her upper torso. They—including the _Inner Circle _members—laughed harshly at her feeble resistance.

Tears pressed against her eyes, her arms and legs aching. Time seemed to slow as she caught someone from behind the members; someone's whose eyes were filled with as much horror and panic as hers. She whimpered again, a plea, and Stanton slipped away, an emotionless expression chained onto his blue orbs. She began crying silently, feeling defeated. Her struggles died and she closed her eyes, awaiting her fate.

Suddenly, after what seemed like hours, she felt her body becoming emptier, and not in the way she expected. No, this was more toward the feeling she felt whenever becoming invisible with Vanessa's power; as though her molecules were becoming something else. Eyes snapping open, she could feel strong arms wind around her. Shadows chained themselves around her, and looking up, she could see the hood belonging to the monk. Her body began forming into misty shadow as her feet were no longer touching ground.

Before any sort of hope could find her, something hard smashed into her, and abruptly, she was rolling on the hard ground, flesh tearing as gashes formed. She blinked the tears away and looked around. From faraway, the cold fire continued raging, blue tendrils of flames whipping about. She was still in the same room, with a mass of shadows overcoming the one shadow above her. She closed her eyes, truly frightened. The monk was caught. Stanton abandoned her. No one to save her now.

"Get her up," someone ordered in a gruff tone.

A single Regulator clasped her arms and heaved her onto her feet. Dragging her toward the fire, he stopped, watching as the hooded monk was brought forward—others pinning his hands behind his back. The Regulator leaned forward, forcing her to also as he pressed his chest against her back; her hands behind her back, too. He was eager to see the monk's demise.

Adamantis stalked forward, and the evil suddenly consuming the room stunned her. She stripped her eyes away from the monk, who was a few feet away from her, but facing her. Near the corner of the room, a massive shadow hovered, its black tentacles flaying around. The _Atrox_. She swallowed the lump in her throat. A gasp from several others turned her attention back to the monk, and she, too, widened her eyes in shock.

Stanton, the hood of his disguise down, stared only at the ground. Before being able to be consumed by surprise, she hissed in pain as the Regulator's fingers carved into her skin, his fury evident. At the sound of her pained, quiet intake of breath, Stanton snapped his head up, gazing lovingly yet hopelessly into her eyes. His eyes narrowed at the newly developed cut in her arm.

"You're hurting her," he mumbled scathingly to the Regulator.

"Enough of that." Adamantis stood in between them, his back turned to her. She licked the blood from her lips. Her heart beat frantically. The shadowy mass belonging to the Atrox slithered down, visible waves of resentment and outrage wavering all around the room.

"How dare you betray me… _defy_ me," the Atrox sneered viciously. "Even after the position of power I granted you."

Stanton didn't respond; continuing, again, to gaze only at the floor. Serena cocked her head, eyes begging for him not to do anything moronic. She'd rather be forced into the cold fire than to witness his demise. No, her heart wouldn't be able to take that. Sorrow draped onto her eyes, threatening more tears to fall. As if sensing her immense distress, Stanton stared at her again—_only _her.

"Don't cry," he pleaded desperately, saddened.

Adamantis shifted to stare at her; body slumped and in a disarray. "What an insult to our master." His voice was nasally and torn between repulsion and something akin to morbid amusement. "To care more about a _Goddess, our _sworn enemy, than the master who has given you everything—power, immortality."

Stanton smirked at him, the notion alarming her. "That's not _everything_." He turned back to her, eyes affectionate. "I already _have everything._" His smile was tranquil, but when the Regulator holding her whispered, "_Not for long_," Stanton grimaced; glaring murderously at him in response. Serena shook her head, wishing for Stanton to stop provoking them.

"Such a waste," the Atrox seethed.

Stanton cringed suddenly, as a spear of furious crimson energy sliced at his body; wounding him a great deal. A ribbon of blood flowed down his arm. Serena continued to struggle, crying slightly, and as the Regulator's grip slowly loosened from her vicious movement—almost a chance for her to escape and help him—, something sharp hit her chest, causing her to stagger, the Regulator following. She breathed heavily, her chest tightening in pain.

"She hasn't done anything," Stanton protested, truly infuriated, now struggling to tear from the grasp of several members; needing to shield her from more attacks.

"She's a Daughter of _Selene_," Adamantis whispered disgustingly. "She needs to be destroyed now." He stared at the shadowy Atrox, eyes flaming. "Do it now, before she becomes a nuisance."

"I'd prefer to see _him _suffer first," the Atrox declined, moving toward Stanton.

"And what better way to see him suffer than to murder his lover," Adamantis argued, moving toward; something silver flashing in her eye from under his cloak. She bit back a scream now. The Atrox paused, contemplating, and then, after several seconds, it stalked toward her, Adamantis smiling triumphantly. From where he was, Serena could see Stanton begin to struggle more savagely—mumbled coldly and desperately in protest and begging—, forcing others to come and hold him down.

Serena tried stepping away from Adamantis, but he gripped her neck and forced her forward. Her breathing heightened. Heart beating manically. Fear pulsed through her. She closed her eyes once seeing the blade.

"No," the Atrox suddenly said, firm. "Kill _him_ first. I'd much rather see the filthy Goddess suffer."

"Master—"

"_Now._"

That ended Adamantis's protest. Cursing, he threw her to the floor. Landing on her knees, body throbbing, she stared up, ready to leap forward, but an uproar of shouts caught her attention. Shadows split through the air, as Stanton was no longer where he was. Instead, something—his shadow, she could tell—barreled out the room, so many others trailing behind, howling angrily.

'_I'll come back for you_,' she heard Stanton whisper into her mind.

"Catch him!" Adamantis was truly furious and incensed. Turning to face her, he ordered, "Bring her to my mansion. Hold her there until I come back." Several Regulators followed suit, gripping her arms and waist.

It was then that she realized that even the Atrox had gone after Stanton. She prayed he'd make it out alive… and that he'd keep his promise. But a part of her felt blissful to know he_ loved_ her.

* * *

—This is how I imagined Stanton's attempt at rescuing Serena, as he'd said in the book. So sappy, yet I can't help it. Blame my mind. 


	6. The Punch

**Crimson Midnight **

**-**

**VI. **_Trash Talking, Bitch _

**-:-**

**-:-**

**-:-**

Vanessa gripped her heart, grim fingers digging into her skin—attempting to dislodge the growing emptiness and grief that vastly extended from every part of her soul, an endless stretch. The thought of Michael's suffering, and the pity in Derek's eyes as he—and Corrine—explained it further contorted her expression it something akin to displeasure and turmoil. She needed to see him.

As she trudged through the crowd—dancers bopping to the high-strung and techno beat—, Corrine trailed closely beside her, eyes wide with sheer curiosity and questions. "You can't go without giving me all the details." She frowned, impatient with Corrine. "What was it like living on the street with so many guys?" Her tone intertwined with suggestiveness.

Vanessa halted, arms limp, and whipped around, bewildered. "Is that what you think?" The idea of being so terribly wounded by the statement—or rumor—seemed rather ridiculous at the time (you know, with the _end of the world_ slowly happening), but if she did live long enough to make her choice, she damn well didn't want to be remembered as a tramp selling herself on some dirty, scum-ridden corner in Downtown LA.

"Other kids are saying worse, especially because Tianna had such a reputation." Her reedy voice was nonchalant, as if unaffected by the bitchy attitude she—seemingly—unintentionally displayed: to one of Tianna's closest friends, no less! The accusation, from earlier also, ignited a flame of malice to swell within Vanessa, temporarily reducing the sorrow etched into her withering soul.

Her blue eyes narrowed into small slits. "She didn't have a reputation until you started saying bad things about her." She stormed out of the club, her shoes slapping on the cement of the sidewalk. Corrine kept perfect pace, not even phased by her quiet outburst of outrage.

"I only repeated the things I heard."

Vanessa stopped again, fingers flexing as she resisted the urge to slam her fist into a wall. "That's not true." Her words were careful… even.

"_Please._ I know what Tianna was." She cocked her hip and tilted her head, smiling deviously. "I just don't like to say the word." Tramp? Slut? _Whore_? Vanessa could almost hear the word whispering across Corrine's mind, and she gritted her teeth. The girl's smile twisted into a smirk, as though understanding why Vanessa's anger was being produced—and she was deriving pleasure from it somehow.

"Bitch," Vanessa snarled, and without thinking, she wound back her hand, elbow bent and fist cocked, and slammed it forward, splitting through the air; crushing into Corrine's right eye. She ignored the stabbing pain shooting up her arm, and even Corrine's mangled cry as her hands flew to her face; body falling backward onto the cement. The heel of her left pointed sandals snapped, making the scene all the more priceless as Vanessa marched away, the heavy feel of satisfaction in her body as she felt her chin up.

She felt proud.

* * *

—Honestly, during all those times she was being talked about—and Tianna, too—, Vanessa should have punched them all: Corrine, Jessica, and Melanie—those bitches. They deserve it even more for having a lot of pages while Collin got none! 


	7. The Date

**VII. **_Maybe I'll Marry Your Mother? _

**-:-**

**-:-**

**-:-**

She sauntered into the bookstore, pursing her lips the entire way. Leaving Vanessa after her long absence from home made her adament. Nervous, in fact. Would she return home and find her daughter, her precious only child, once again vanished? Ignoring the senseless fears, Mrs. Cleveland eased behind one of the shelves and began skimming through the romantic titles. Her heart sung at the sight of the covers, so deliciously sensual and enthralling. Oh, Fabio and your lustrous golden locks. That dazzling smile melted away her heart.

Her daydreams were cut short. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. Her chest seemed to become empty, drained of emotion. Fighting back tremors on her skin, she slowly shifted around, only to be greeted by two luminous, shimmering green orbs on a hard-featured face. A man, fine hairs pulled back into a slight ponytail, stood just meters away, smiling crookedly at her, clad in neatly-pressed black suit.

"H-Hello?" she stammered, unsure as of what to say.

The man cocked his head. _Observing_ her, actually. "You're quite beautiful," he boldly stated, inching closer. Blood rushed to her face, coloring her cheeks a bright flame of red. Her ears were hot and her heart pounded against the inside of her chest. The ring around her finger, the ring given to her years and years back when Dave was still alive, seemed to tighten. She felt foolish.

"T-Thank you, I guess?" She hadn't been hit on for so long, it seemed so foreign. And at the same time, despite the building pressure in her chest, excitement bubbled in the back of her mind. She couldn't help but a crack a faltering smile. At such a late age she could be hit on by men, especially ones who were so... She couldn't describe him. He was neither handsome nor hideous. Not even average! Something different, something so inhuman that she felt inotixicated by his very presence.

He held out his hand. "My name is Adam."

"Nice to meet you, Adam," she greeted, shaking his hand. His grip was tender, the flesh of his palm cool and smooth. "I'm Sarah Cleveland."

"_Sarah_," he whispered, seemingly enjoying the sound of her name on his tongue. "What a lovely name you have." She sensed that his speech was practiced, but something in her mind felt truly captivated. "I'm sorry for my boldness, but I can't help it. You're a fine, _fine _creature."

She flushed tomato red. A woman several paces back examined the spectacle, amused. Sarah, truly mortified, began fumbling with the ring on her finger, to which Adam noticed. His lips curled down. "You are married?" he questioned, seemingly dejected. "How disappointing."

"I'm not," she instantly responded, voice staggering. "My husband... h-he died around ten years ago."

"And you wear the ring for the sake of his memory?"

She rubbed her arms soothingly. His melodious voice echoed in her head. "Yes, I suppose."

"I'm sorry for your loss," he murmured, voice deep yet... strained. As if speaking in such a husky voice was exhausting to his vocal cords. "But we can skip this little charade, right? I would like to take you out to dinner sometime... Would you kindly agree to accepting my proposal?"

Her heart hitched, skipping a beat. The air rushed from her mouth and all she could do was gape. The blood escaped her head. With her body cold, hollow, and her legs rooted to the floor, she opened her mouth. Nothing came out. A rining in the back of her head sounded, slightly vague, and before she even realized, words flew from her mouth in a rush.

"Yes."

Adam smirked.


End file.
